


He knew they were in love.

by Sarie_Fairy



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Love, M/M, MSR, Masturbation, Sex, Third Party POV, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 11:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarie_Fairy/pseuds/Sarie_Fairy
Summary: It may have been his job to watch, but it was never his job to observe. That, he did for himself.A study in MSR, from the perspective of Alex Krycek.
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Fox Mulder, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83
Collections: The X-Files Third Party Drabble Challenge





	He knew they were in love.

He had watched them for a long while. A long while on any particular day or evening, and a long while stretched out, on and off over years.

It was his job to watch, keep tabs, report back. He was never privy to everything, never understood every decision. Was always kept in a shadow of the truth. After a while he didn’t care about the answers. He just did it because it was his job.

It may have been his job to watch, but it was never his job to _observe_. That, he did for himself.

He knew they were in love. He knew it so very long before they did. He watched them from a distance or on a tape on playback; of stolen, private moments. 

Saw her stoic until the moment she was alone, crumple in her car. Sobbing over of _him._ Because of her love for him. 

He’d noticed how his looks would linger on her longer than that hand he had glued to her back.

Witnessed him nearly destroyed when she was expiring before him.

Deeply in love.

…

He’d lie back on his sofa, headphones on, eyes shut, listening. Wouldn’t bother with the visual. Hours of tapes. Apartment, basement, cars. He was picking out keywords. ‘Red words’, they were called. He’d make notes, send them in.

On this particular night, it wasn’t that he’d heard a ‘red word’, that made him sit up with interest in the visual. There was a distinct _lack_ of words. And an excess of _sounds._

He rewound and hit the play button, settled himself back onto his sofa in the dark, unzipped his pants and started stroking. Light from the TV danced blue shades across his face, his beautiful eyes blinked slowly as he gripped and began to pump.

He watched and bit his lip as the sounds, that alerted him before, got louder. Moans and sighs and _Oh’s_ and _Scully’s_ and _Mulder’s,_ crackled out of the small screen…

A moving picture of two knees framing an arse, moving wildly up and down on a worn out leather sofa. He had dreamt of that arse. Of that body, that back. How he ached for him. Loathed him and lusted him in the same span. Perhaps the loathing was for himself. At what he’d allowed himself to become. Could he blame it all on unrequited love? He’d hoped not, thought it too juvenile.

He felt the familiar tightening in his balls. His head, through some kind of muscle memory, began to fall back. He snapped it up, held his base to be sure to catch the final act.

She on top of him, straddling him on the sofa. Tits bouncing in his face and his mouth all over them. She holding onto his shoulders as she sped and his body fell back against the cushion and his mouth let go of her nipple.

Now he could see that face. The one with the green eyes and pretty mouth. See the ecstasy, the desire, the lust.

He pumped harder, wanted to come with _him_.

The sounds from her. Moans and whimpers and ‘ _Oh my God’_ and ‘ _Ah, Mulder…’._ And then, as she tipped over the edge…

“I love you.”

Even with the bad picture quality, he could tell, by the way his eyes met hers, the passion in the kiss he thrust upon her, and that this was new.

“I love you too, Scully. God so much.”

The lonely lounge; pumping and pulling.

The screen; embracing and thrusting.

Then, he came. They did together. An opened mouth and sex laced groan, and _“Scully”_ and “ _fuck baby”_.

On the sofa, a strangled, clipped, groan and a whispered echo … _‘_ Oh Mulder….’

…

He cleaned himself off and put himself away, did up his fly. Reached over and took the tape out of the machine, didn’t put it with the pile of other surveillance tapes he was working his way through, instead, grabbed a marker and scrawled something across the label, went and put in on his shelf.

He sat back down, picked up his head phones, grabbed another tape from the top of the pile, reached over and slid it into the VCR. Pressed play, lay down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

In amongst the books on his shelf, a dogeared _Catcher in the Rye_ , a smattering of Ian Fleming, was a small collection of tapes, all labelled in the same scrawl, ‘The Long Kiss Goodnight’, ‘The Lone Fox’, and others. The newest edition, to the home made collection, the ink still wet, ‘Love Story’.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the XF Third Party Challenge
> 
> Every author had to pick a different character and write that character’s POV on M&S. I chose Krycek. 
> 
> Thank you for organising @slippinmickeys 😘


End file.
